


recurrence relations

by orphan_account



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Childhood Friends, First Time, Footnotes, M/M, POV First Person, Sexual Experimentation, Spitroasting, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-10 13:37:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10438860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In plain language, Jaehyun wants Doyoung to fuck him. This could be a coming-of-age, loss-of-innocence type of thing, except that it isn't. Not anymore.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm unoriginal and like recycling fics lol I write fic for Seventeen and I adopted the styles from [two](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7169372) of my previous [fics](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9119761). coding is a bitch, guys. also, I don't want to dictate how you live your life, but please read the footnotes as they come. thanks xoxo
> 
> inspirations: Call Me By Your Name by André Aciman, The Gangster of Love by Jessica Hagedorn, [White Noise](http://www.highchair.com.ph/issue_21/21_whitenoise.htm) by Stephanie Shi, how Jaehyun is evil and opportunistic, and how Doyoung looks absolutely trustworthy with people's virginities whenever I watch clips of him in Lipstick Prince. seriously. title taken from math/physics concepts
> 
> I lost my mind more than once while writing this. I even made a [playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLi_hofUDtE0_Ibzi-PF-9P866CvCpMDmS) to write to and that's unlike me
> 
> beta'd by the wonderful AO3 users killyourdarlings and aishiteita I love you guys so much

Stop me if this is wrong.

I trail my fingers down his spine, letting the nails rake across the skin. Doyoung shivers like this isn’t contractual[1] and pats my head while I mouth at his chest as if to say in earnest, _I want this_. He’s sitting on the bed while my knees ache against the floor. He’s mumbling soothing words to me. _It’s okay, Jaehyun. You’re doing fine, Jaehyun._

Then, _You don’t have to do this, Jaehyun_.

But I want to. And I’m especially tired of _You deserve to do it with someone you love, Jaehyun_. Was it love when Taeyong drunk-fucked you? Did you want him so much you couldn’t even tell him to be gentle because it was your first time?

I bring my hand to the front of Doyoung’s chest and up. I trace his collarbone, feel the taut skin stretched over it, cup his shoulder. He’s finally fiddling with my shirt, demanding I raise my arms up so he can get it off. It’s summer, and the shirt is sticking to my back. He gulps.

“Please stop looking terrified,” I tell him, though _terrified_ is inherently Doyoung.

Doyoung lets out a nervous smile then laughs; it causes a ripple through him. “Sorry,” he apologises. It sounds regretful, like it always does. _Sorry that you trust me_. If I look back to the night I first asked him to touch me, I should’ve realised.

We’ve been friends for fourteen years. I really should’ve known better.

“I wanna try sucking you off again,” I say. Remind him. Coax him. Maintain eye contact with him until he stops quivering in his seat. “Okay?”

Doyoung nods and automatically lifts up his hips so I can take off his pants, blushing a bright red all the way. When he finally understands what’s happening, he breaks out into a grin. “Don’t choke, okay?” he teases in a gentle tone, caressing the side of my face while looking like he gives a shit. In retaliation, I dig my fingers into his thighs.

I spread his legs wider and move closer, then I sit back on my heels. At this point, I’m at a loss. After one look at Doyoung, who looked at me with a hint of pity, I bring my head back down to give his dick a tentative lick. He lets out a hiss, so that's good. I start from the bottom and lick my way up, gripping onto his thighs in a way that could maybe come across as overeager. Or terrified.

Both are terrible. I relax my fingers and leave them splayed on top of his thighs as I take him in, reminding myself to loosen my throat, to keep my tongue flat on the bottom of my mouth. I hear him sigh. He reaches for my hair, patting it down at first then pulling at it when he wants me to go deeper.

He should be leaning back, throat raised up and catching light. He should be as covered as I feel, lightly sweating. He should be staring at the ceiling, at the long, thin crack that ran across it for as long as I can remember.

It’s so humid that I catch myself trying to breathe more from my mouth. He’s also breathing deeply; I can see his stomach curling and tightening against itself.

Then, bitterness building up on my tongue. Doyoung groans and grips at my hair even tighter.

“Come on, Jaehyunie,” Doyoung whines. _Whines_. I go faster then stop to swirl my tongue into the slit at the head [2], flicking gently while I reach for the base to hold it steady. He pulls on my hair again, this time hard enough for warmth to pool on my scalp. 

I let him bring me in as deep as I can. Up, down, up, down. It’s his rhythm now. My cheeks flare up and feel extremely hot when he lets my mouth slip off his dick, come landing on my cheek. At least it didn’t land in my eye. I lick my lips.

“Good?” I ask.

Now it’s his turn to blush, and he just nods, swallowing the lump that’s caught in his throat. “Yeah,” he manages. “But was I being too rough?”

“I’m frankly surprised,” I admit. No one ever thinks Doyoung has it in him. I step back so he can pull his boxers back up. He steps out of his pants and leaves them tossed on the floor with his shirt then lies back down on his bed, whipping out his phone. I go through his closet for a towel then wipe off my face, settling down into the mattress his mom lays out for me every time I sleep over.

“What?” I hear Doyoung hiss. “Can you hang up? Jaehyun’s here.”

“Is that Taeyong?“ I ask. I honestly don’t know who else it can be, given how Doyoung has been only Taeyong this, Taeyong that whenever he’d call me from his university. 

“Unfortunately,” Doyoung answers me. “What do you want?” he then asks Taeyong. “ _Jaehyun_. My best friend Jaehyun. Fuck you. Drink on your own.” He flips over to look at me. “Hey, Jaehyun, do you want to go drinking with Taeyong?” Before I could say anything, he adds, “You’re not going to take care of that?”

I wave it off. Not that I want to get off, but I don’t want to if I can hear Doyoung bicker on the phone with Taeyong. Doyoung looks at me with a raised brow while Taeyong presumably nags at him about taking too long to reply. “We can do that,” I say. “Like, drinking, I mean. Do you want to?”

Doyoung sighs, tells Taeyong, “I’ll text you,” and hangs up. “I can take care of that,” he offers me.

“You’re so sweet,” I coo. “Pretty please? I’ll go with you if you jack me off.”

“Oh, right, you haven’t met Taeyong yet.” Maybe because I haven’t decided yet if I wanted to meet him, and I feel like I know too much about him from what Doyoung’s told me. Doyoung gets off his bed to kneel by my side. It’s cute, honestly. I raise up my hips to bring my underwear down to my knees and lie back down.

“Be gentle with me,” I tease. “I’m only a virgin.”

Doyoung snorts and wraps a hand around the length of me, starting off in slow strokes that traverse the entire length. Once precome’s gathered at the tip, he smears it into his palm and lets that guide his hand into a smooth glide. Up, down, up, down. I take my bottom lip into my mouth and chew on it, mimicking Doyoung. “Like that?” he asks. Fuck.

“Fuck.” It makes Doyoung laugh, at least. He quickens his pace (maybe in his rush to see Taeyong?) and I let my mouth fall open, slack, hands reaching out to get a firm grip on him. “ _Fuuuuck_.”

“Close?”

“Come _on_ ,” I nearly beg. Not that I have to, but I can feel the sweat running down my back and that stubborn itch of an oncoming orgasm. It all seems never-ending, like Doyoung’s impatiently jacking me off but my dick’s gone numb and the orgasm is just _there_ in my guts, waiting for release.

Doyoung makes a face when he looks at his hand after I come, then unceremoniously wipes it all off on my boxers.

“Hey,” I grumble.

“It’s your spunk anyway,” Doyoung says with a shrug.

 

 

 

“You’re still in high school, right?” Taeyong asks me. He unwraps his 7-11 burrito and licks his fingers before taking a big bite.

“I just graduated,” I answer. I must look and sound like a sullen child. Doyoung looks tired, sipping his beer like it’s the most fun thing in his life at this moment, and reaches across Taeyong to crack open another can that he hands to me.

Taeyong just finished his second year of university doing what he loves, which is great for him. He says it took meeting Doyoung for him to realise that the only corporate anything he wants to participate in is corporate social responsibility, which is, again, great. For him. It sounds like meeting Doyoung was the greatest love story of his life.

“What are your plans?” Taeyong asks.

“I’m not sure. I’m enrolling under literature in English[3], but we’ll see.” I sip my beer and reach for the pack of chips, opening it just to take a large handful.

“Yuta’s taking lit,” Taeyong brings up, mostly to Doyoung, hand on Doyoung’s shoulder, eyes on Doyoung.

“In Chinese,” Doyoung counters.

“Same thing, right?” Yes and no.

I change the subject. “Thanks for the drinks.” Taeyong’s house is nice, with a front yard that’s perfect for picnics, the lights in the garden bouncing off of the table placed just so to face the other houses of this suburban wet dream. The beer is a sophisticated kind. German or something. It tastes crisp.

“Yeah, no problem,” Taeyong tells me with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

“Why’d you call me?” Doyoung finally asks.

“My parents are out of town.”

I watch Doyoung’s face go red, all the way to his ears. There’s an unspoken _I can’t believe you brought the kid with you_ in Taeyong’s tone that makes me laugh and Doyoung blush even harder. “Do you want me to go home?” I ask.

Taeyong turns red, too, and struggles to clear his throat.

“Stay,” Doyoung tells me, stretching out a hand as if to keep me steady and in place, fingers curling around my wrist.

“Let’s celebrate your graduation, then,” Taeyong offers. He goes back into the house and comes out with a bottle of whiskey in a fancy glass bottle, the magic of it ruined when he pours some into paper cups and tops the cups off with nubs of nearly melted ice. I take the first one he doles out. “Cheers?”

“Cheers,” we all say. I take a sip while watching Taeyong knock his back ferociously and wince from the burn in his throat.

“I didn’t call you for sex,” Taeyong admits to Doyoung. “Did you get your grades yet?”

Doyoung nods. “I’m still waiting for two subjects,” he says, but he’s never really had cause to worry about his grades. He looks at all of them with the same blank, accepting gaze. Ah, I need to do better next semester. Ah, I should've done that extra credit work. Ah, I wasn’t expecting a grade this high. Never mind the almost paralysing breakdowns he has leading up to the day grades get released.

Taeyong frowns. “I failed a class.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” I say in an exhale, meeting Taeyong in the eyes. “What now?”

“I don’t know,” Taeyong says glumly, staring at the bottom of his cup with a desire to drown in it. Doyoung reaches for the bottle to pour more into Taeyong’s cup, pats his shoulder, then trails his hand down the length of Taeyong’s arm to hold his hand. “Fuck, sorry. It’s not about me.”

“Nah, I’m just happy to be out of there,” I say.

“He’s a troubled kid,” Doyoung tells Taeyong in a joking manner, all slurred words and no bite. Something’s snapped inside of him; he’s not only holding Taeyong’s hand but is also leaning on him like a needy cat, purring if he could.

I shake my head. Fuck, it’s so heavy. “I should go,” I say and make motions to get up, but Doyoung’s hand stops me. And the imperative:

“Stay.”

 

 

 

That was a fucked up dream.[4] 

Jaehyun Jung Lost His Virginity to Two College Students, more at seven.

Except that Doyoung’s naked beside me, sleeping peacefully. My ass hurts. The bedroom we’re in is twice the size of mine.

Jaehyun Jung Woke Up From a Dream Only to Realise It Wasn’t Really a Dream After All, headline at eight. My mouth tastes like a sewer rat. At least someone (presumably Taeyong) wiped my face clean, and the sheets smell fresh and lovely.

I try to go back to sleep, but the sourness of my mouth keeps me up and forces me to go into the (en suite, holy shit) bathroom. On the sink are two pairs of folded clothes, two towels, and two toothbrushes still in their packaging. Taeyong must’ve woken up early to lay out all of those for us. I brush my teeth and put on the clothes then go down to the kitchen barefoot.

“You’re up,” Taeyong says in mild surprise. What time was it? “I thought you guys wouldn’t wake up till later so I had breakfast already. Do you want coffee?”

“Please.”

“How do you take it? Espresso? Cappuccino?” What, sorry?

“Instant,” I say, which makes Taeyong laugh, “with milk and sugar.”

“Right.” Taeyong turns the espresso machine on and pulls out a cup and saucer set from a cupboard, drumming his fingers on the counter as he waits for the machine to turn on and clean itself first. “I’m really sorry, by the way.”

I can’t see him, which is probably for the better. He sounds like he wants to die. “Dude, don’t worry, I’m nineteen.”

“No, I mean, like—” I wonder if he apologised the same way to Doyoung after taking his virginity. “We were all drunk, and you don’t like me very much, but I…”

“Please,” I beg, my head hurting already, “stop. It’s not a big deal.” The coffee is finally pouring into the cup. Taeyong gets milk from the fridge and sugar from another cupboard and dresses up the coffee before placing it in front of me.

“Do you want breakfast?” Taeyong then asks me.

“What do you have?”

“What do you want?”

“An omelette,” I say without thinking it through. This is through and through a guilt meal, that much I can surmise from the way Taeyong’s face is screwed up. He pushes his sleeves up with a shrug and takes four eggs in his hands. “I didn’t know you cook.”

“So what exactly did Doyoung tell you?” Taeyong asks. He cracks the eggs into a bowl and uses a whisk to break up the yolks. “For you to not like me, I mean.”

“Nothing much…” My voice trails off and I find myself staring at the window—anywhere else but Taeyong, please. “Just that you took his virginity”—Taeyong squawks at this—“and that you have episodes.”

“Episodes of what?”

“Like…” God, is it really only nine in the morning? We’ll be needing drinks again at this point. “You’d brush him off and pretend he doesn’t exist, so he doesn’t know if you guys are dating or not.”

“We’re… not…” Taeyong takes out a large pan and puts in a good amount of butter. “I understand why you don’t like me. I wasn’t the best person to him.”

“Yeah, I agree. You weren’t.” I finally take a sip of coffee and try not to smile from how good it is, whatever this rich people’s coffee is. The smell of melting butter is so fucking sweet, too. God, my mouth is watering. “You know, Doyoung’s everything to me. I’ve known him since I was five, and he’s seen me go through a lot.”

“What did he mean when he said you were a troubled kid?”

“I just skipped school a lot, to the point where I almost couldn’t graduate because I had too many absences. There was one week where I didn’t go to school, and my mom had to beg Doyoung to come home Thursday night to make sure I went to school Friday morning.” I could hear her crying on the phone to Doyoung. Doyoung really did come home then; he knocked on the door and though it was one in the morning, my mom opened the door so eagerly for him and reheated all the food.

Taeyong puts a plate in front of me, with a professionally formed omelette that quivers from being barely set, then a tall glass of cold water. He takes the seat across from me and just looks at me with those big eyes, like a lost puppy’s. “What were you doing?”

I shake my head. “Nothing. That’s the thing. I’d stay up all night, then when I wake up, it’s one or something, so there’s no point in me going to school[5]. Normally I did it on a Monday, which is understandable, right? Everyone just really fucking hates Mondays, myself included. But there was one week back in first semester when it just went straight on for four days, and the principal had to call my mom, so she called Doyoung.”

“Why Doyoung?”

In all honesty, I’ve never had a chance to think of ‘why Doyoung’ either other than that it feels _right_ , that’s why. “Like I said,” I begin, using the fork to cut through the omelette, “Doyoung is everything to me. He tutored me whenever I failed an exam. He spotted me whenever my mom couldn’t give me my week’s allowance. In middle school, I was doing after school taekwondo, and he waited for me _every single fucking day_ ; he’d do his homework there at the waiting room then walked me home—” Fuck. Taeyong’s eyes widened as I spoke and as I choked on my words. Running out of things to say, I shove the forkful into my mouth. “Holy shit, this is so good.”

“I didn’t know Doyoung was like that,” Taeyong admits. Of course, he doesn’t.

“You know, it’s a good thing you guys aren’t dating,” I blurt out, and please, oh god, I can feel the dramatic moment crawling on my skin like an ant.

“Why? Because you’re in love with him?” Well, fuck Taeyong Lee. Fuck his everything.

“He’s too good for you,” I counter.

“Fine, yeah, whatever. Doyoung’s a genius. I failed a class. When my parents see that F, they’ll think, was there anything wrong? Am I having problems with them? They’re gonna look into my friends. They’re gonna look into the shit I do in school and at the dorm. They’re gonna find out Doyoung’s practically been living with me for an entire semester, and oh, look, honey, a scapegoat. They’re gonna blame Doyoung for my failing because they know I got out of business administration because of Doyoung.” Taeyong pauses to take a sip of water. “And not only is Doyoung a distraction, they’ll also realise that the reason Doyoung is such a distraction is that their son is fucking _gay_ —he’s an academic failure and _gay_. They’re gonna think, we have so much money, so where did we go wrong? I’ll get put in therapy, and they’ll bribe the psych to break confidentiality. I _know_ it. I don’t fucking deserve Doyoung.”

“You…” I’m floored by how Taeyong managed to say all of that the way that he did, voice barely rising over the matter-of-fact, nightly news tone.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t end there—now that Taeyong’s inner demons have awakened, there was no stopping them from spilling out of Taeyong’s mouth. He was class president, and for some reason, I imagine it was in a preppy boarding school, he wore sweater vests without batting an eye, and the entire school system was in love with him, boys, girls, teachers. But he was class president and valedictorian because he couldn’t get his parents’ love otherwise. Tragic. They wanted a golden child to brag about during dinner parties, over scotch on the rocks and Barry Manilow playing in the house’s pipe-in sound system. They wanted a child that could validate everything they had ever done, and Taeyong was it.

Now their son is out there learning how to combat unfair labour systems and how to engage corporations into becoming environmentally sustainable. It’s just a phase, honey. Taeyong will realise that the real world is harsh and he’ll learn to play along with the best of us.

“You have issues,” I state. It almost seemed rude to let the food Taeyong cooked for me go cold as I listened to him, so here I am, now wiping melted butter off the plate with my finger and finishing the dregs of my coffee while trying not to tell him that maybe he does need therapy. Or family counselling.

“Yes, Jaehyunie”—excuse me?—“I have issues. And I like Doyoung, but I can’t do anything about it right now,” Taeyong sighs.

“If it helps, Doyoung’s got his own shit,” I offer. “And I like you a lot more now.” Taeyong gives me a small smile and asks if I want more coffee.

“You like it?” Taeyong asks as he goes to set up another cup in the espresso machine. “Do you wanna try it without the sugar this time?”

“Why are you telling me what to do so early in the morning?” I counter, and Taeyong laughs.

“It’s a nice contrast, come on,” Taeyong insists, but he sprinkles in a teaspoon of sugar into my cup nonetheless and hands it to me. He makes himself another cup as well and goes back to his seat. “I’m sorry that… happened.”

“It’s fine,” I tell him. It was like when I first saw Doyoung have a panic attack, and I could only watch, helpless, not knowing if it was okay that a C elicited such a reaction from him. Though this time, it’s too much if I hold his hand. “I’m sorry I brought it up,” I apologise instead.

Taeyong’s been looking down at his coffee cup the whole time but at that, he raises his head and smiles a bit wider. “Yeah, you’re a fucking asshole.”

 

 

 

Now that breakfast is all cleared up and Doyoung hasn’t woken up yet, Taeyong and I found ourselves at a loss.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Taeyong suggests. We’ve ruled out anything that involves us leaving the house, because Taeyong feels obligated to make sure Doyoung a) wakes up and b) has something to eat.

“Sure,” I say. Taeyong stands up and walks out of the kitchen. I follow him with my second cup of coffee to yet another room of his cavernous house.

Taeyong likes Sofia Coppola. We’ve gone through _Marie Antoinette_ and are now on _Lost in Translation_ in his home movie theatre room thing with the La-Z Boy couch and enough thick blankets and pillows to drown in them when Doyoung’s finally up. He finds us there, huddled together in our separate blankets, and squeezes himself right between us. Annoyed, Taeyong pauses the movie but keeps his eye on Scarlett Johansson lit blue and neon by the Tokyo nightlife.

“How are you?” Doyoung asks me first. He places his hand on what he presumes is my thigh in a show of tenderness.

“I’m okay,” I reply. As okay as I could be given this entire situation, but okay nonetheless. “And you?”

Doyoung’s fingers curl on me before they relax. He leans into me, placing his hand on my shoulder. “I thought you ran away again,” he says softly. I could feel Taeyong boring holes into me, but as of now, I’ve barely told him anything, and my skin prickles slightly at his entitlement. I have to excuse him; he had a breakdown while nursing a glass of orange juice. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m still here,” I say.

“So you are.”

“And Taeyong’s been really nice.”

“Has he?” Doyoung smiles at that. I take my arm out from the blanket to lace my fingers in his and try to fight the urge to kiss him just because it’s what feels right, even with Bill Murray on the screen and Taeyong on the opposite end of the couch. But I really want to.[6]

Why Doyoung, indeed. Doyoung urges Taeyong to start the movie again then curls up next to me, tries to get a share of my blanket. He took my virginity so why not my blanket as well?

“Your ass doesn’t hurt?” Doyoung whispers to me.

“It hurts,” I say. “A lot.” He squeezes my fingers tighter and apologises. It’s okay, all of it. The movie is beautiful, and I think I’m allowed to feel like I’m in something special.

 

 

 

It’s nearing sunset when we leave Taeyong’s house (Taeyong had ordered in pizza and chicken wings, and Doyoung mowed through a whole pie by himself). Taeyong ran our clothes through the washing machine and let us use his shower just so we can do our walk of shame home with a little more dignity. Wonderful. Considerate.

“Hey,” I say, “remember what happened last semester?” Why Doyoung?

“Yeah… What about it?”

“Why… did you…?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Doyoung counters. Now the sunset was coming and shone brightly on Doyoung’s eyes, making him squint.

Why Doyoung? I should’ve gotten up at the sight of my mom crying. I should’ve showered and dragged my ass to school by Wednesday at the earliest. _Why Doyoung_? “It’s just… I was thinking about it…”

“Did you bring it up with Taeyong?” he asks me.

“Well, yeah, and now I’m just—You didn’t have to, you know. You were busy. You had shit to do,” I tell him.

Doyoung has this habit of pinching at his skin when he thinks, stretching it until it becomes taut then releases; I can almost hear the snap. “You know, I was afraid that if I didn’t show up, it would go on for much longer,” he eventually says.

“I would’ve snapped out of it eventually,” I lie.

“Yeah, I know,” Doyoung sighs. “I guess I missed you, too.”

I think I understand. Why Doyoung? As Taeyong said, I’m in love with him, and eighteen year old me was being a shit by trying to get his attention when he was gone.

“Jaehyunie, listen to me,” he says, so I look up at him to see the sun set behind his head. “You know I love you, right? And the reason I do anything for you is that I love you.”

“Even…?”

Doyoung flushes red and clears his throat. “Even that. Because you asked.”

“But you didn’t want to,” I say. God, I shouldn’t be putting him in this position. I really fucking hate Taeyong Lee. I want to go back to his large, fancy house and punch him in the fucking nose. “I shouldn’t have.”

“No, I…” Doyoung’s stirred himself up into a mild panic, and I can hear the impending train wreck in my head. “I wanted to, but it’s just—”

“Taeyong?”

“ _No_ ,” Doyoung stresses. “It’s just—What did we expect from this? If I wanted to fuck you, then what?”

But _why_ does Doyoung want to fuck me? “You wanted to fuck me,” I repeat a little dumbly.

Doyoung clears his throat again and the sound that comes out doesn’t acknowledge anything—rather, it addresses something new, so I let him change the topic until we get home.

He drops me off at my house first and won’t leave until I twist the doorknob and head inside. “Doyoung,” I say, and if I had my fingers on the doorknob, they would rattle, “I wanna kiss you again. Is that okay?”

The way his mouth tightens says everything. “Are you sure?” Doyoung hesitates.

“ _Please_.” It’s probably as close to a confession as we’ll ever get like this, I think. _I don’t want you to just fuck me. I want you to hold my hand and kiss me_. I could tell him that I’ve wanted to kiss him all day. “I… I want to.”

“Okay,” Doyoung concedes. He steps between my legs and guides me until my back is pressed against the door. He curls his fingers into my hair and leans in, breath hot on my cheek. I could feel my breath come out in a shudder from my heart beating so quickly, and I know he can feel it, too, since I’m probably as worried as he looks. “Tell me when to stop.”

“Of course.”

He kisses me fleetingly, barely catching my lips. After, he pulls away and looks at me with lidded eyes, then comes back in, this time deepening the kiss while trying to maintain his softness. I wrap my arms around his neck to pull him closer. We don’t stop.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 1 “I’m not starting college a virgin,” Jaehyun protested.

“Then don’t,” Doyoung answered back, blandly, licking grease and salt off his fingers from the fries he’d been eating. “It’s that simple.”

“I want it to be _good_ ,” Jaehyun insisted, and stole an onion ring from Doyoung in a show of brattiness, “so it can’t just be with anyone.”

“Do you want me to refer you to someone?” Doyoung asked, unsure of what Jaehyun wanted from him by the mere confession. “I have plenty of friends.”

Jaehyun made a face. “No, Doyoung. I was thinking _we_ could do it.” He pointed at himself then at Doyoung, who set down his burger, appetite wilting away as it got replaced by a churning in his stomach.  [return to text]

*

2  Doyoung had done this on Jaehyun, previously. [return to text]

*

3  “You like reading,” Doyoung managed to offer in the face of Jaehyun’s college application crisis. Well, Jaehyun does, but he’s not sure it’s something he loves. He ticks the box for literature in English anyway. [return to text]

*

4  It had started when Doyoung brought his hand back up to curl into the back of Taeyong’s neck and leaned in to kiss him, softly to bring comfort. Jaehyun found himself unable to do anything other than drink more pity whiskey while Taeyong clung tighter to Doyoung, whimpering whenever Doyoung would nip on his bottom lip.

Doyoung let go with a sigh, his other hand still holding onto to Jaehyun. He turned to face Jaehyun with swollen lips, dark and shiny, and Jaehyun thought he’s so pretty like that, flushed cheeks and garden lights catching the high points of his face. Taeyong looked the same way, except his eyes are a little less wild and a little more blanked out, staring off into the dimmed street while he licked his lips. He’s so, so pretty, too; Jaehyun wanted to trace both their mouths with his fingers.

Before Jaehyun could reach over to Taeyong, Doyoung ran his fingers in Jaehyun’s hair and pulled him close. Jaehyun could smell the alcohol coming from Doyoung (or was it coming from himself?), and Jaehyun felt like he’s on a boat, rocking against Doyoung with his fingers not knowing where to place themselves, where to find purchase.

He didn’t realise he’d never kissed Doyoung until he heard Doyoung moan against his mouth and the sound of it vibrating against Jaehyun’s mouth was shocking, making Jaehyun recoil. But he wanted Doyoung’s mouth on his again. Taeyong had stood up from his seat and sat beside Jaehyun, hand on Jaehyun’s shoulder. On Jaehyun’s neck, he placed kisses, and Jaehyun melted into the touch, leaning back into Taeyong’s space while Doyoung followed, shifting his weight until all three of them were all but lying down on the table bench.

“Wait,” Taeyong exhaled. “Doyoung, get up.” Once Doyoung had gotten up, Taeyong led them inside, chips and snacks and drinks all forgotten on the picnic table. Jaehyun stumbled on the stairs, lower body entirely too heavy for him, and waited for Doyoung to keep him steady, hands firmly placed on his waist. Taeyong held Jaehyun by the hand, walking backwards with the other hand right on the bannister. The house was so beautiful, really, all warm lights and a grand wooden staircase, and Jaehyun felt so small.

“I like your house,” Jaehyun said, and Taeyong laughed.

“Thanks.”

Taeyong’s bed was large, dressed in pristine white sheets that were tucked very tightly into the frame. The mattress was the softest thing Jaehyun had ever felt pressed against his back, and he let out an incredible sigh, mouth curling upwards into a wide grin before everything dissolved into giggles. “Fuck,” Jaehyun sighed as he ran a hand up and down the sheets to feel the softness.

Doyoung stayed by the door, locking it though no one else was home. Taeyong sidled up to Jaehyun on the bed.

“Hey, Jaehyun, do you like me?” Taeyong asked. His fingers were trailing on Jaehyun’s body, but his gaze was heavy.

“Not really,” Jaehyun blurts out. “But we’re getting there.”

“Are you okay with me kissing you?”

“ _God_ ,” Jaehyun groaned. “ _Please_.” Taeyong reached out, hand cupping Jaehyun’s cheek, and kissed him.

Jaehyun didn’t think it’d be so _satisfying_ , kissing a pretty boy like that with his best friend watching a few feet away. Doyoung joined them on the bed, tugging slightly on Jaehyun’s hair to make him turn his head back. Jaehyun’s lost, but in possibly the best of ways.

“I wanna fuck you,” Taeyong whispered into Jaehyun’s ear. Doyoung caught that and frowned.

“He’s still a virgin,” Doyoung told Taeyong.

“Then you fuck him,” Taeyong countered. “I’ll watch.”

“I want Doyoung,” Jaehyun piped up. He made grabby hands for Doyoung, smiling widely when Doyoung crawled on top of him. “I really, really, really want you.”

Doyoung’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“ _Really_.” Jaehyun arched up into Doyoung’s warmth, let Doyoung’s hands wander under his shirt, graze over his nipples. “Pretty please?”

Doyoung swallowed and tried to take off Jaehyun’s shirt in silence and with trembling fingers. Jaehyun’s pants he was able to remove with more ease. Jaehyun shivered and wanted Doyoung to come closer, fingers greedily grabbing at Doyoung’s clothes to get them off but failing, so Taeyong had to step in, getting Doyoung naked as well as handing him a bottle of lube.

At once, Doyoung seemed to sober up. “This is gonna hurt,” he warned Jaehyun, who only giggled, stomach curling in anticipation. “Ready?”

Jaehyun nodded. Doyoung covered his fingers liberally with lube, using the clean hand to keep Jaehyun spread open while he circled Jaehyun’s entrance with the tip of his finger. He pushed in, and Jaehyun gasped, winced, groaned. The slowness of it burned. Jaehyun grit his teeth and tightened his stomach.

Doyoung watched him, ready to stop any time. He pushed his finger all the way to the knuckle and pulled it out just as slowly until Jaehyun began to relax, breathing deeply through his nose. Then he fucked Jaehyun faster, still on that one finger. Jaehyun had to whine for another, wanting to feel _full_.

Taeyong watched with an expression Jaehyun can’t place, though it looks like worry, big eyes and a furrowed brow, bottom lip sucked into his mouth to chew on. “How does it feel?” he eventually asked. It sounded drowned out.

“Can’t think,” Jaehyun moaned. Taeyong laughed, and it tickled Jaehyun’s cheek.

“Do you like it?”

“I want more.”

Upon hearing that, Doyoung slipped in a third finger, the sounds of them pushing in and pulling out egregiously loud and lewd. Jaehyun laughed and flushed a bright red.

“You should see yourself,” Doyoung told Jaehyun. “You look so hot.”

“Is that true?” Jaehyun asked Taeyong.

“Very.”

Jaehyun grinned and made himself more comfortable, pleased at the praise.

Doyoung called him back with: “Are you ready?”

“Please, just do it,” Jaehyun whined. Doyoung let go of him, fingers slipping out, and everything felt cold all of a sudden. Taeyong handed Doyoung a condom then began to stroke Jaehyun’s hair.

“Okay?” Doyoung breathed.

“Okay.”

Everyone knows it hurt, but Jaehyun wasn’t prepared for how much it did, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes making him cover his face in shame.

“I'm getting ripped apart,” Jaehyun groaned into his hands, the complaint coming out muffled. “ _God_ , it _hurts_. _Fuck_.”

“We’ll take it slow,” Doyoung reassured him. Once he’s all the way in, he kept steady, let Jaehyun get used to it. He pulled out just as slowly as he came in then inched his way back, picking up the pace bit by bit whenever Doyoung took Jaehyun’s silence as a good thing.

“Flip him over,” Taeyong told Doyoung. Doyoung slipped out entirely and helped Jaehyun lie down on his stomach. 

“Sick fuck,” Doyoung scolded Taeyong. Taeyong just unzipped his pants and brought out his cock, guiding it to Jaehyun’s cheek.

“Do you want this?” Taeyong asked him. Jaehyun nodded eagerly, opening his mouth as much as he could to take Taeyong in.

Any movement beyond that seemed way out of Jaehyun’s league at the moment, with Jaehyun struggling to keep himself up, hyperaware of the cock Doyoung has in him and how he’s waiting for that moment when the burn becomes pleasurable instead of just a burn. He fell short of all that resolve and let Taeyong hold him by the hair instead.

Taeyong fucked his mouth in the same slow pace as Doyoung, groaning when Jaehyun let out a whimper at the hand Doyoung had snaked down to jack Jaehyun off. One more thing to think about. Mouth, cock, hand, cock, ass, cock. The bit of saliva Jaehyun can feel running down his throat.

Jaehyun came without much fanfare, Taeyong’s cock sliding past his mouth to bob against his jaw, and he whined softly against Taeyong’s thigh, riding out the hand Doyoung has on him. The tears pricking at his eyes came back, spilling over and running down his face in two clean lines.

“Holy shit,” Taeyong said in awe when he caught sight of Jaehyun, cupping his face with both hands to wipe off the tears with the pads of his thumbs. “Doyoung, look at this.”

“What happened?”

“He’s crying.” Then, to Jaehyun he coos, “You did so well. So, so well.”

Doyoung came inside of Jaehyun, and Jaehyun felt it in the way Doyoung’s nails dug into his waist and the once steady rhythm faltered. He pulled out slowly, hand firm on Jaehyun’s back.

Taeyong still had his hand in Jaehyun’s hair, the other one stroking himself quickly until Jaehyun’s face was streaked with come. He peppered Jaehyun with kisses after, right on his swollen, bruised mouth, and laid him down gently on the bed to sleep. [return to text]

*

5  Sicheng, his homeroom classmate, is a saint in this regard, for sending Jaehyun all the homework he needs done via iMessage. [return to text]

*

6  “Hey,” Doyoung whispered into the darkness, though Jaehyun’s face was reflected by the screen of his laptop as he watched something that went past his head yet comforted him in its noise. Doyoung sat down on the side of the bed, right next to Jaehyun. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Jaehyun answered as he closed his laptop. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Doyoung shrugged. “I don’t know.” He was looking at Jaehyun with a strange sadness, and Jaehyun couldn’t do anything about it other than guide him close to him, by the back of Doyoung’s collar, and hold him, letting himself be held by Doyoung as well, his arms wrapping around Jaehyun’s waist.

Jaehyun buried his face into the crook of Doyoung’s neck. “Sorry,” he whispered. Doyoung just squeezed him tighter. Jaehyun could smell Doyoung’s cologne and underneath that, the scent of stale clothes, unwashed hair, but, still, he lifted his head up and kissed Doyoung on the cheek and felt, for the first time in days, some sort of wonderful.[return to text]

**Author's Note:**

> [complaints desk](https://twitter.com/satanyong) or just leave a sad comment, same thing.


End file.
